


loving me is.

by lowcarbzeros



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fight Sex, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowcarbzeros/pseuds/lowcarbzeros
Summary: Fighting.That's what you and Keiji have been doing a lot of lately. You don't know why this is happening or where this sudden disconnect came from. Your relationship has never been perfect, but it was always stable. Now, though, it's like any little thing could set either of you off. Communications have shut down and you're both flying blind, not sure of anything.And as the holidays draw near, things only seem to be getting worse.





	loving me is.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, posting this for real this time. sorry for anyone who got a notification and then had nothing to read, heh. that's my bad.
> 
> thank you so much to Momo ( momothesweet ) for beta-reading for me!
> 
> enjoy fighting with akaashi y'all

Fighting. 

That's what you and Keiji have been doing a lot of lately. You don't know why this is happening or where this sudden disconnect came from. Your relationship has never been perfect, but it was always stable. Now, though, it's like any little thing could set either of you off. Communications have shut down and you're both flying blind, not sure of anything. 

And as the holidays draw near, things only seem to be getting worse.

 

It's on a particularly bad day that you find yourself standing in front of Keiji as he sits on the couch, your arms crossed. 

"I don't understand why you're so mad at me right now," Keiji says.

"Really?" you say, your eyebrows rising on your face. "You have no idea." 

Keiji meets your incredulous gaze evenly, keeping his expression completely flat—something that drives you insane when you're arguing because it makes you feel like he just doesn't give a shit. 

"We've gone to my parents’ house for Christmas Day  _ every _ year," he states, "How was I to assume that you wanted to do something different this time?"  

"You're not supposed to assume anything," you answer. 

"Well I can't read your mind," he says sharply, "so I don't know what you want from me."

"What I want is for you to  _ ask _ ," you tell him, "instead of just going off and making plans without even talking to me first!" 

"We do the  _ same thing _ every. fucking. year," he bites out. 

"Yes,  _ Keiji _ ," you retort, "but I have mentioned more than once that I wanted to spend Christmas Day at my mom's this year." 

He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, and narrows his eyes. "When, exactly?" 

"Fuck!" You throw your hands up in exasperation and then place them on your hips. "I wouldn't remember when exactly, but definitely within the last couple of weeks." 

"I don't remember that," he scoffs, leaning back on the couch with crossed arms.  

An exhausted sigh escapes your lips. "Of course you don't." 

He raises his eyebrows. "And what do you mean by that exactly?" 

"I mean exactly what I said," you snap. "You don't remember because you never listen when I'm speaking to you." 

He rolls his eyes. "That is not true." 

"It is." Instead of coming out firm like you mean it to, your voice falters. You swallow before continuing, "You may hear me, Keiji—" you have to pause to gather yourself, worrying at your own fingers, because suddenly this fight feels like it's about more than just who you're going to spend Christmas with—"but you don't listen to me anymore."

Something seems to shift for Keiji too. He continues to stare at you quietly, but his eyes look more troubled than angry now. You watch his chest rise high and then fall slowly as he takes a clarifying breath. After that he stands and pulls out his phone. 

"Fine," he mutters, "I'll call my mother and change our plans."  

"Thank you," you barely manage to say before he's striding past you and down the hallway. 

The sound of the bedroom door slamming shut makes you flinch. You take a shuddering breath and move to sit on the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

The argument is over. You're getting what you want. But it's only because Keiji is deflecting. He doesn't want to talk about or fix the real problem, so he'll just do what you want to solve this one. 

Uneasiness settles in your chest. You hold yourself tighter and listen to the quiet muffle of Keiji's voice, hoping that the feeling will go away by the time he comes back out. 

But when the call ends and Keiji's voice goes quiet, he doesn't come out. 

He doesn't come out for a long while. 

 

It's not until sometime later, after you've dozed off on the couch, that you're roused by a gentle touch to your cheek. Your eyes flutter open to find Keiji sitting on the edge of the couch, gazing down at you with his tired eyes as he strokes your cheek. 

"Hey," he says gently. 

"Hi."

He moves his hand from your cheek to smooth back your hair. "My mother said that we can come by for breakfast that day instead, if you're okay with that."

"Um," you sit up and try to blink the grogginess away, "yeah of course." 

"Okay." His hand grazes down your arm before he takes it back, clearing his throat. "Come on, lovely," he says, standing up, "let's go to bed. It's late."

You blink up at the hand that he offers you for a moment before you take it, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and standing up as well. Once you're on your feet, Keiji pulls you close to wrap you in a hug. He's warm and he smells good and you just want to bury your face in his chest and pretend that you weren't fighting earlier. 

"Are we okay?" you find yourself asking instead. 

There's a kiss to the top of your head. 

"We're okay."

 

***

 

"You're going out?" you ask from the entryway of the apartment. 

"Yes," Keiji answers, slipping on a shoe. 

"Where?"

"With Koutarou." He slips on his other shoe.

"Okay," you say quietly. 

He sighs and looks at you. "What is it?" 

"Nothing." You shake your head. 

He waits for you to say more, but you don't. 

"Fine." He puts on his jacket and grabs his keys. "I'll be back late."

A lump forms in your throat. You cast your eyes down and nod. 

There's a moment where you're both quiet and still. Then you watch Keiji's feet as he steps toward you.  There's a kiss to your cheek.

"I love you," he murmurs. 

"I love you too."

Then he steps away and opens the door. "I'll see you later," he says. 

"Bye." 

And then he walks out the door.  

You lock it behind him and go back to making dinner, trying not to think about all of the leftovers you’ll have to put away. 

 

***

 

You feel Keiji as he leans over the back of the couch, looking over your shoulder at the package on the coffee table. 

"What's that from," he asks. 

"Just some shoes I ordered online," you say lightly. 

He comes around the couch and sits beside you. "How much were they?"

"Not much," you shrug. 

He says your name in  _ that _ tone. 

"I said not that much, fuck," you snap, not quite managing to keep the defensiveness out of your voice. 

"Well,  _ lovely _ ," he says, his voice sounding restrained, "There's been a lot of shopping bags in the recycling lately. And we're tight on cash." He looks at you critically. "And we have bills to pay." 

The condescension in his voice sends a twinge of annoyance through you, and you roll your eyes. "Yes, I know that," you assure him, and then add, "I'm an adult just like you Keiji."

"Fuck, fine," he mutters, standing up. "Just don't use our credit card for anything right now."

"Got it." 

Keiji hesitates a moment and then walks away. 

Once your anger subsides, you feel a little guilty. Keiji's worries about your spending habits aren't exactly unfounded. You've been known to go on sprees when you're feeling down. 

And yet Keiji, who knows that, was only worried about the money—not why you were spending it. 

You grab your laptop from the coffee table and look for something to buy online. Whether it's to make yourself feel better or to spite him, you're not sure.

 

***

 

It's on what has become a rare lazy morning while you're lying in bed with your head on Keiji's chest that a thought you've been having for a while finally slips out:

"What do you think about us getting married some day?"

A derisive snort is what you get in answer. You lift your head with a raised eyebrow. 

"Really?" you say. "That's your response?"

He blinks at you and then his eyes widen. "Oh, you were actually asking me." 

Sitting up, you frown down at him. "Obviously." 

"Sorry," he says, sitting up as well, "but you already know my opinion on marriage."

It's true. You guys did talk about it when you first started dating seriously. But that discussion happened a long time ago and...

"I was just wondering if maybe your feelings had changed since then," you say, shrugging in what you hope comes off as casual.

Your downcast eyes must give you away though, because Keiji takes your hand in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles, and says, "I don't want to disappoint you, but there's nothing that's going to change my feelings on marriage." 

You're quiet for a moment, and then you say, "Not even after being with me for so long?" 

He breathes out your name, rubbing a hand down his face, "Don't."

You should just drop it; you both know you're only baiting him, but...

"Well?" 

... for some reason, you continue anyway. 

He takes his hand away from you and runs it through his hair. Then he looks to you with a mild expression and says, "No." 

Even though you already knew what the answer would be, it still hurts to hear out loud. Biting your lip, you turn away from him. 

"But it has nothing to do with me wanting to be with you," he continues, placing a hand on your cheek to turn your face toward him. "It's about me not wanting to marry anyone. Period." 

You keep your eyes averted. "Okay." 

"Lovely," he sighs with an edge of impatience.  You still don't look at him. 

"Love," he says more firmly. 

"I said okay," you snap, brushing his hand away from your face. 

"Yes," he retorts, "but you're angry with me." 

"I'm not—" you stop and take a deep breath—"I just don't get it." 

He makes an irritated sound. "Where is this even coming from all of a sudden?" 

"I don't know," you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself and shrugging. "It's just something I've been thinking about."

He watches you quietly for a moment before letting out a long breath. 

"Look," he says, more gently than he was speaking before, "marriage is an archaic practice meant for a time when men and women needed each other for specific purposes." He shrugs his shoulders and gestures with his hand. "Life's not like that anymore. Marriage has nothing to do with love; it's just a cash grab for wedding businesses that insist on extravagant ceremonies, all just to sign a paper that will legally bind us."

You understand it, somewhat. Although you never said you wanted an  _ extravagant  _ wedding. Just a small, simple ceremony would make you happy. But you're willing to let the subject drop for now. 

However Keiji continues, "I'll add that technically, with how long we've lived together, we're already considered married under Common Law." 

"Yeah," you snort and roll your eyes jokingly, "but a Common Law marriage doesn't come with the dress." 

Keiji scoffs and leans back against the headboard. "We are  _ not  _ getting married just so you can wear a lavish dress." 

The way he says it makes you flinch a little, but you don't dwell on it.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't love to see me walking down the aisle in a beautiful gown," you tease instead, crawling closer to him, "all done up with flowers in my hair, and a smile on my face because I'm about to marry the man that I am so deeply in love with." 

There's a smile in Keiji's eyes as you crawl over top of him to straddle his thighs. One of his hands finds your waist as the other brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. 

"Of course I would love that," he says, and it makes you feel better about his earlier comment, "but that's not a reason to get married."

_ No, loving me is,  _ you think but don't say. 

As if he read your mind, Keiji cups your face with his hands and says, "I love you." His thumbs stroke over your cheekbones as he looks into your eyes with a sincerity he rarely allows anyone to see. "You're very important to me," he pauses and his expression shifts back to his usual seriousness, "but marriage isn't." 

You can't argue with that, so you nod. 

"And besides that," he adds, absently tracing over your collarbone with a finger, "we'd hardly be able to afford a wedding." 

"Right."

He smoothes back your hair and he leans in to press his lips to yours, kissing you surely. When he pulls back you look down at your hands, now gripping his t-shirt. 

Keiji tilts his head to catch your eye and asks, "Are we okay?"

Biting your lip, you nod once. "We're okay."

He pulls you in for another kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you firmly. His lips move against yours, soft and slow, until a flick of his tongue hints at wanting something more. You try to reciprocate, but with the previous conversation still stuck in your mind, you find that you just can't get yourself to feel it. You place a hand on Keiji's chest as you pull away from the kiss. 

"I'm, um, gonna go take a shower," you nearly whisper. 

Something that might be hurt flashes in Keiji's eyes, but it's quickly replaced by his usual bored expression. 

"Okay," he says, letting go of your waist. 

With a little nod you slide out of his lap and off of the bed. You walk towards the door, hesitating a moment after you open it. You have the thought of maybe giving Keiji some sort of reassuring smile or something, but when you glance over your shoulder you see that he isn't looking at you; he's staring off to the side pensively, fidgeting with his fingers like he always does when he's thinking—or uncomfortable. 

With tightness in your chest, you leave the room. 

 

***

 

After that day sex becomes nearly non-existent, until it stops entirely. You try to initiate but Keiji always brushes you off or comes up with some excuse. Sometimes you wonder if it's payback for rejecting him. Keiji's a petty person, so it really wouldn't surprise you. Or maybe he's just not attracted to you anymore. You're not sure which is worse. 

 

***

 

You find yourself standing in the entryway again, like you have so often lately, watching Keiji throw on his shoes and jacket. 

"Going out with Koutarou again?" you ask. 

He sighs. "Yes."

"Okay," you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor and wrapping your arms around your ribs to feel some sort of security. 

You're both quiet and still. 

And then you watch Keiji's feet as he steps away from you. 

The door opens and closes. 

You lock it behind him. 

And then you're alone.

***

 

It's eleven o'clock when you two finally get home from Christmas dinner. The sound of the door creaking open is deafening compared to the heavy silence between you and Keiji. You'd both fallen quiet the moment you'd left the fancy restaurant your uncle had taken everyone to. And neither of you have said a word since.  

Once you step through the door you're finally able to slip out of your heels. It's only a small relief, but you'll take whatever you can get right now. You feel anxious standing in the tight space of the entryway with Keiji, the silent hostility between you eating at your skin. You shrug out of your coat as you step into the rest of the apartment, not able to stand another second so close to him. You drape your coat over one of the dining room chairs with the intention of hanging it up later, leaving Keiji to take his sweet time taking off his things. You seek refuge in the kitchen, your nylon-covered feet slipping against the floor with every step you take. 

Once you're there you're not quite certain what to do with yourself. If you just stand there then it's obvious that you're avoiding Keiji. You can't make tea because you just had it at the restaurant. There are some dishes in the sink. Really, you could just place them in the dishwasher, but you're desperate so you roll up the sleeves of your cardigan and start doing them by hand. 

What you want more than anything is to get out of your uncomfortable strapless dress that you keep having to pull up, take off your makeup, maybe even shower, and then get some much needed sleep. However, that would mean having to be near Keiji again, and you really can't deal with that right now. 

The sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen makes you tense. As they draw nearer you hope that he continues down the hallway to go straight to bed. The sooner he's asleep the sooner you can get ready to crash on the couch. But when the footsteps reach the kitchen entrance, they stop. 

You feel eyes boring into the back of your neck. You set your jaw and try to ignore him, scrubbing at the pan in your hand. The sound of the rough sponge scratching against the pan only adds to the tension in the air, and eventually the weight of his gaze gets to you. You throw the sponge in the sink and turn to glare at him where he's leaning against the entrance.

"What?" you bite.

"You're angry," he says simply.

You scoff and turn back to the sink. "What makes you think that, Keiji?" 

"You've been quiet ever since we left the restaurant."

Out of the corner of your eye you see him stepping closer to you.

"Right," you say, going back to scrubbing, "and you've been so chatty."

He steps right up beside you and places a hand on the counter to rest on. "It didn't seem like you wanted to speak to me."

The assumed calmness of his voice pisses you off beyond belief.  

"You're right, I didn't." You force the pan into the drying rack. "And I still don't, so please leave me alone."

"Jesus, what?" He finally abandons the calm demeanor. "What is it?"

"Fuck Keiji, don't." You rip the dishtowel out from where it's tucked into the cabinet door. "Do not do this right now." 

"Do what?" he snaps.

You step away to free yourself of his oppressive proximity, and as you dry your hands roughly with the towel, you say, "Act like you don't know why I'm mad at you." 

He raises his eyebrows. "So you are mad because of me."

"God, yes!" You throw the towel on the counter and raise your hands in disbelief. "I just—" you pause to find your words—"cannot  _ believe _ the way you snapped at my mom at dinner." 

"Oh fuck." He rolls his eyes. "And you were so gracious to my mother. You know, I didn't miss any of your passive aggressive comments at breakfast." 

"That's because she started it!" you shout. "She kept making little jabs at me about messing with her Christmas routine, among other things. And you never bothered to step in and stop her, so I just gave it right back." 

"My mother's always like that," he retorts. "You should be used to ignoring it by now."

Much quieter than before, you say,"You never used to let her do that to me.”

There's a moment of heavy silence.

"Well, your mother spent the entirety of dinner nagging me," Keiji deflects. "And by the end of the night I just lost my patience with it." 

You roll your eyes with a click of your tongue and lean back against the counter. "She was hardly  _ nagging  _ you."

"Are you serious?" he snaps, "She wouldn’t shut up about when I was finally going to propose to you."

You laugh humourlessly, crossing your arms and looking down at your feet. "I'm sure she was overjoyed when you told her that the answer is never."

"I didn't tell her that." 

You snap your head up to look at him."And why not?"

"Because it's none of her fucking business," he spits out.

"She's my mom, Keiji!"

"Then maybe you should tell her!" he shouts back. He tilts his head and regards you coolly. "Or have you not told her yet because you still have it in your head that I'll change my mind?"

The venom in his voice makes your stomach drop and your breath catch. It's never been a secret that Keiji has a nasty streak, but it's never been directed at you like that. You dig your teeth into your cheek as you look away and shake your head, doing everything you can not to cry. 

Keiji seems to realize what he's done, his voice less scathing as he continues: "It wasn't just that. She kept going on about when we were going to start having kids."

"And I suppose you don't want to do that with me either?" you say, keeping your gaze locked on a scratch in the wall, unable to bear looking at him for fear of what his answer might be.

"I've never said that I don't want children," he says quietly. His tone is matter of fact, but there's something else in his voice that draws your attention. Hesitantly, you peek up through your eyelashes to look at him; his arms are crossed but his eyes are softer than you've seen them in a while, the corners of his mouth drawn down but not angry. A glimmer of hope stirs in your chest—s _ o he does want kids _ . But he must see the longing in your eyes because almost immediately the softness in his face hardens into a pained frustration. "But not right now," he says. "We're not stable enough financially for that." 

An annoyed sound escapes from the back of your throat as you look down and shake your head. 

"What was that for?" Keiji asks with barely restrained anger. 

"It's just—" you shrug hopelessly—"that seems to be all that you think about."

"Being financially stable," he clarifies in that voice he uses when he thinks what you've said is stupid. 

Normally it would make you feel insecure, but right now it just pisses you off. 

"Yes." You lift your head and look him square in the face. "You bring it up in every conversation we have and I am so tired of hearing it. You don't care about what's going on with me," you accuse. "You don't care about us! You only ever worry about money."

"One of us has to!" he snaps. 

You flinch. "I—" you start but find yourself not knowing how to continue. 

He scoffs. "See, you can't even argue." 

"There's more to life than just money, Keiji," you decide on, crossing your arms. 

"Really," he says, his hands going to his hips and his posture somehow becoming even stiffer than before. "Life won't be very enjoyable when we can't afford groceries or the gas bill, which is sure to happen if you keep running up our credit card like you have been!"

Again, you can't say anything that he'll listen to. Instead you wrap your cardigan tighter around you, trying desperately not to fold in on yourself. 

"Did you think I just wouldn't notice all of the charges on it?" 

You remain quiet.

He says your name like a curse, expecting an answer from you. When he doesn't get one he stalks forward until he's standing right in front of you.

"I shop when I'm upset," is all you have to say. 

And of course he ignores what you're really trying to tell him. 

"Well, lovely," he sneers—

"Don't," you bite before he can continue. You stand up straight to get right in his face, jamming a finger into his chest. "Do not call me that when you're—" 

"When I'm what?" he interrupts, taking hold of your wrist, "When I'm telling you things you don't want to hear?"

"When you're being a fucking asshole," you spit, yanking your arm away. 

"I'm just trying to explain to you exactly what sort of situation we are in." He leans forward and places his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. His voice is severe when he continues, "You want us to have a baby but you can't even control your own spending habits. As of right now we are making enough for the two of us to live – barely – and I am not bringing a child into that equation." 

You can feel angry tears sting your eyes as the animosity that radiates between your bodies grows hot. 

"I wouldn't worry so much about it Keiji," you say. "It's not like you're in any danger of getting me pregnant." 

His eyes widen a fraction.

With a trembling voice you add, "This is probably the closest you've gotten to me in weeks."  

He tears his gaze away from yours and you can see him clench his teeth. 

"Don't look away from me," you croak, tears spilling over despite your best efforts. "You know it's true." 

He continues to look away. "You didn't—" 

"Stop it!" you shout. "Don't blame this on me when it's you who hardly touches me anymore! You who lays in bed with your back to me! And it's you—" you shove him in the chest—"who’s hardly ever home!" 

Your breathing is shallow as you stare at him waiting for a response. He turns back to glare at you and it makes your heart ache; his eyes are filled with anger, but his face is so close that it's impossible to miss the guilt that lies behind it. 

"I mean, fuck," you say when he remains quiet and seething, "are you even attracted to me anymore? Do you even—" you stop yourself from asking  _ that  _ question, unsure if you're ready for the answer. 

Keiji regards you with a hard look and leans further into your space. "You don't know how I feel about you?" he says in a low voice. "Really?"

Suddenly his proximity is overwhelming. The white-hot anger that he emits slithers over your skin to mix with your own exhausted fury. You shake with it. It burns inside of you, setting all of the hurt and all of the loneliness that has plagued you on fire. 

You allow all of that pain and anger to seep into your every word when you answer, "How am I supposed to know when you never fucking show me?"

The muscles in his jaw tense as he takes in your words. A look flashes across his face but you don't have time to figure out what it was because suddenly he's gripping your face with both of his hands. You're stuck frozen as he stares seriously into your eyes. And then all at once his features soften into something somber and he leans in to kiss you. 

By the grip he has on your face, you're expecting something harsh—forceful, but when his lips touch yours they're gentle, warm. He kisses you so slowly and with such tenderness that it puts a hitch in your breath. Your eyelids flutter shut and you let him kiss you, tears threatening to escape you again as his thumbs brush over your cheeks. You find yourself grasping at his dark, neatly pressed dress shirt, just trying to stay grounded.

Too soon, he starts to pull back, lingering for only a moment before pulling away completely. 

When you open your eyes wetness clings to your lashes. You blink it away and find Keiji gazing at you with a look that asks, _ Is that enough?  _ And it hurts so much because it's not. It's not because why had he been neglecting you for so long in the first place? Why did you have to all but beg him for just a hint of any feelings he might hold for you? 

It's just... not enough. 

The moment Keiji reads it on your face, you know; his brow furrows and he makes to back away from you. That's when you realise something: 

If you want more, you're going to have to take it.  

So you tighten your grip on his shirt to keep him in place. His gaze flits down to your hands and then back up to your face. And then with a single breath to steel yourself, you pull him into another kiss. 

He inhales sharply through his nose when your lips collide with his. You continue to press forward, insistent that he reciprocate. And after a very brief moment of hesitation, he does. 

This kiss is much different than the first. This time there's nothing gentle about it. This time it's rough and desperate, bordering on painful. You're both panting into it, harsh breaths that fill the tiny kitchen. With a step forward he pushes you back into the counter, pressing his body to yours. The edge of the counter digs into your lower back painfully, but you don't care because Keiji is kissing you like he wants you, pressing close to you like he needs you. 

You let go of his shirt to wrap your arms around his back and grasp at his broad shoulders. His lips start to stray from yours, mouthing down your neck until he reaches your cardigan, which he pushes off of your shoulders hastily. You help him to get it off of you, and once he manages, it gets tossed away. Immediately his hands are back on you, all over. Needy sounds escape both of you as you kiss and grasp at each other. You're so hot all over, and when you feel him getting hard against your hip arousal starts to pool between your thighs. 

In no time his hands drop to the hem of your dress. He hikes it up without ceremony, freeing your thighs and allowing you to spread them like you've been so desperate to do. He slips his hand between your legs to seize your cunt, growling when he's obstructed by your nylons. In an act of pure need, you reach down, pushing his hand out of the way so that you can tear into the thin fabric. As soon as he realises what you're doing, Keiji's fingers join yours, ripping a large hole from the crotch all the way down the thigh. 

And from that moment on there's no bounds to your urgency.

In seconds Keiji has you sat up on the counter. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the sounds of things being knocked over, but neither of you cares. His lips are searing on your neck and over your collarbone, hot breath fanning over your skin. You reach down to cup the bulge in his dress pants, your already soaking wet pussy clenching at the feeling of his hard cock against the palm of your hand. 

Your fingers move in a rush to undo his belt and zipper. Just as impatiently, Keiji reaches down to help you, and together you finally free his cock from its confines. He wraps an arm around your waist to slide you forward on the counter, and then he hurriedly shifts your thong to the side to allow him access to your cunt. You grab his cock to guide him, and then finally –  _ finally _ – he's pushing into you. You both gasp at the feeling, pausing briefly as if to punctuate how long it's been—God, it's been so long. 

After a few heavy breaths, Keiji starts to thrust, his cock stretching and filling you. It's been so long that it nearly aches; your walls are tender and over-sensitive to the drag of his cock. You whine into his neck as you reach up to tangle your hands into his hair, tugging on it to urge him on.  He curses under his breath, rolling his hips into you at an increasing pace. The arm he's got wrapped around you holds you stable, and the other grips your thigh hard, fingers sure to bruise. 

You've needed him so badly; needed him close to you – inside of you – part of you. The way that he clutches at your body with such desperation sets your blood boiling. 

As he continues to drive into you, quickly finding your sweet spot, you cling to him like a lifeline. On a particularly hard thrust you cry out, throwing your head back into the cabinet door behind you. You hardly notice the pain, but the noise is loud in the small kitchen. Suddenly Keiji lifts you up and turns you both around, stumbling forward until your back slams into the refrigerator. The magnets that cover it dig into your back and the cold from the door contrasts with the heat between your bodies. 

Keiji starts to thrust into you again, and each time you try your best to rock into it, and you vaguely register that you're slipping downward. Keiji's strong, but the satiny fabric of your dress holds no traction against the sleek material of the refrigerator door. Even when you try to hang onto the freezer handle, you just end up yanking it open, Keiji's hand flying up to slam it shut. 

It doesn't deter either of you, though. Keiji just holds you tightly again and turns around until he's leaning back against the fridge himself. You're not sure what's happening until he's sliding down, dragging anything that was hanging on the fridge with him. 

It's graceless and frenzied but it's really of no consequence because you just keep fucking. 

With Keiji seated on the floor, you're able to ride him hard and fast. The cold tiles are pressing into your knees as you rock in his lap, a hand braced on his shoulder and the other on the fridge for more leverage. With one foot planted on the floor, knee bent, and the other braced against the cabinet across from the refrigerator, Keiji is able to fuck up into you with force. He meets you on every drop, hands clutching your ass, urging you along. In a surge of passion, he grabs the top of your dress and drags it down to reveal your tits. They spill out and his mouth is on them in an instant, licking, kissing, and nibbling at the skin until he finally takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks. Sparks shoot straight down to your cunt, causing you to clench around him as you keen. He moans around your hardened nipple and squeezes your ass in encouragement. 

It's within a very short time that you start to feel close to coming. The intensity in Keiji's every move is overwhelming, igniting every nerve in your body. You feel like a livewire ready to set fire to everything around you. Keiji's hands run up your back to dig into your bare skin as he holds you tight, ready to burn up with you. His mouth is right by your ear and you can hear each fevered gasp that falls from his lips, mixing with your soft cries to fill the kitchen air. It reminds you that he's there and he wants you. With all of those things combining with the pressure of Keiji's cock grinding into you your g-spot and the friction that your joined bodies are putting on your clit, you find yourself riding right on the edge. 

Suddenly Keiji reaches up to the arm you have braced against the fridge and wraps his fingers around your wrist, gripping hard. He curses and starts shaking beneath you. You're trembling as well, hardly able to breathe with how close you are. 

It only takes a few more rocks of your hips until the tension snaps and you start coming. The power of it tears a sob from your throat and you drop your face into Keiji's neck to hide as you shake apart. He follows right behind you. His moan is low and broken as he spills inside of you. For a few moments you both lose yourselves in the euphoria. 

But it can't last forever.

In the aftermath you're left aching, raw and exposed. Your breathing is heavy as well as Keiji's. Sweat clings to your skin and it's hot and damp everywhere that you and Keiji are touching. Your knees are sore. There's cum dripping down your thighs, probably ruining Keiji's pants.  When he finally lets go of your wrist you can feel the blood rising to the surface of your skin. You're a mess and he's a mess, but all you can do is slump into him like a trembling ragdoll.

Neither of you speaks for a while, taking time to calm down. It's not until you feel like you have your breathing under control that you speak:

"We're not okay."

The words hang heavy in the air for Keiji to either acknowledge or ignore. 

"No," he answers gruffly, "we're not."

You hesitate a moment. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." 

Your throat starts to feel tight.

"All we do is fight, Keiji," you say, "all the time." 

He wraps his arms around you. "I know." 

"I hate it," you whisper.

"I know," he says gently, smoothing down the back of your hair with his hand. "I know. I hate it too."

Both of you go quiet again. There's another question on your lips, but fear keeps it stuck in your throat. So you stay with your head resting on Keiji's shoulder as he pets your hair. He hasn't been this affectionate with you in a very long time, and you don't want it stop. 

However, eventually one of you has to speak again, and you know it's probably not going to be Keiji. So you focus on the way that he's holding you to give you courage to ask the question you've been so afraid of.

You open your mouth, and after a few false starts you finally croak, "Do you still love me?"

His hand pauses on your hair. 

And then he's tightening his hold on you.

"Of course I do," he says so emphatically you could cry. He's quiet for a moment and then asks, "Do you still love me?"

"Yes," you say immediately. "Always." 

He presses a kiss into your hair. "Then we'll do better."

"How?" you ask, pulling back to finally look at him.

"I'm not sure, lovely." He takes your face in his hands and starts stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs. "But we'll figure it out."

And that's when you start to cry. 

His eyes widen briefly before he begins wiping away the tears. 

"Shh," he murmurs, pressing light kisses to your face, "don't cry, lovely, please." 

"I just," you sniffle, "I've missed you so badly." 

You catch a glimpse of his pained expression as he pulls you close again.

"I've missed you too," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

You take a few breaths to calm yourself down again before you say, "I'm sorry too." 

"Come on." Keiji guides you to sit up. He brushes some of your hair back from your face. "Let's go clean up and get some sleep." He swallows."And then we can start on figuring things out tomorrow."

You nod your head and whisper, "Okay."

It's a struggle to get you both standing up. Your limbs are tired and sore, and your nylons are slippery against the tiled floor. You do manage, though, and once both of you have your ruined clothes mostly put into place, you make your way to the washroom. 

There, you shower together. It's far more intimate than anything you did in the kitchen. You cling to each other under the spray of the shower, brushing lips over skin, taking care to be gentle.  And as you help each other wash off the cum, sweat, and grime, you can't help but feel like you're washing way at least some of the anger and pain as well—letting the stream from the showerhead take it all down the drain. 

Of course it's not that simple, but for now you're content to just feel Keiji's skin against yours, knowing that he loves you. Knowing that you both want to makes things better. 

And you do hope that things get better.

You need them to get better.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at lowcarbzeros if you want


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